


this is all i'm asking for

by cheshirecatsmile



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: All I Want For Christmas Is Love Actually, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Christmas fic, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Smut, a lot of cute h/l, really brief spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2771375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecatsmile/pseuds/cheshirecatsmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's officially December and all Louis wants for Christmas is Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is all i'm asking for

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from All I Want For Christmas by Mariah Carey. One of several Christmas fics! Merry Christmas.
> 
> This wasn't originally my plan, but this ended up being part of [keepcalmandreadfic's](http://keepcalmandreadfic.tumblr.com/) All I Want for Christmas Is Love Actually Christmas fic [challenge.](http://keepcalmandreadfic.tumblr.com/post/104573301602/keep-calm-and-read-fics-all-i-want-for-christmas/) So I figured why not?

December 1st. 

“So it's officially December,” is the first thing Louis hears when he cracks open an eye.

“Hrrrnghh,” Louis whines, burying himself into the warmth of his duvet. “G'way, H. Worst flatmate ever.”

Harry jumps on top of Louis' legs, jostling the bed and successfully waking him up. Louis catches glimpse of his phone on the bedside table and grabs it, checking the time.

“It's 10 o'clock, you fucker. Don't you have to be in work?”

“I called in sick,” Harry says, still sitting on Louis' thighs and if he shifts up any further he'll be on Louis' crotch and Louis will pop an erection and nobody wants that.

“Then get away from me, I don't want your virus.” He mumbles it half-heartedly. Even if Harry was coming down with Ebola, Louis would still want to kiss him. That's the truth, and it's a lot sad. Especially because he knows it's all very one sided.

“I'm not actually sick,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, it's December 1st. You know what that means?”

“It's less than a month to Christmas?” Louis guesses, because Harry's always been a very festive person, all for the stupid hats and jumpers, and cranking up Christmas FM until Louis' eardrums burst. It is most definitely _not_ endearing.

“Oh. Well yes,” Harry seems a little surprised by this revelation. “But. It's 23 days to your birthday.”

Louis pretends his chest doesn't ache. “Unfortunately. My youth is slipping away. I'll be an old man and you'll be all young and beautiful still.”

“Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?” Harry warbles and of course, he would reference Lana Del Rey. “Anyway. Twenty three is not old.” He climbs off Louis' legs. “But now that you mention it, we should start decorating the place.”

“H, can you make me breakfast?” Louis pleads as he drags his legs out of bed. “If I'm adhering to the overrated Christmas spirit for you, you can at least thank me in the form of food.”

“You lazy arse,” Harry scoffs. Then, after a beat, “Will scrambled eggs on toast do?”

Louis beams at him.

Louis idles as Harry makes the eggs, torn between wanting to be helpful and not wanting to ruin breakfast with his ineptitude. Eventually Harry sent him out to watch TV, as he was getting under his feet. He said it with a fond expression though, so Louis didn't mind all too much.

He'd barely had time to watch an ad break before Harry is sauntering out of the kitchen with a plate in his hand. It wields two slices of perfectly bronzed toast, topped with a mountain of scrambled eggs. “Voilà!” He declares, handing Louis the plate. “Am I or am I not your favourite person in the world?”

“Always,” Louis says, tucking in. And oh, it's so fucking good. He praises Harry's culinary skills between mouthful, half moaning around his bites.

“Steady on,” Harry grins, amused. “You sound like you're in a porno. You're not fucking the eggs.”

“I wouldn't be anyway, I'm more of a bottom.”

Louis doesn't catch what he's said until he registers Harry's profound silence and--whoops.

“You take it up the arse?” Harry asks quietly. Louis squeezes his eyes shut and stands up abruptly, because _God,_ images.

“Let's go grab the decorations, shall we?”

 

\--

 

It being their second Christmas as flatmates, they had all the decorations in the wardrobe ready for use again. They're up high, so Louis has to stand on a chair to actually reach them. Harry spends the entire time chuckling under his breath and making height jokes.

Harry pinches his bum once or twice. Louis nearly falls off the chair.

“So. Fake or real tree?” Louis asks, once all the decorations are down and they're about to commence stringing multicoloured fairy lights around the flat.

“Real,” Harry says immediately, seemingly miffed by the mere idea of an artificial Christmas tree.

“Fine, but you're sweeping up the dead pine needles.” Louis says as makes a creative loop of lights over a lampshade.

“Lou, I caught you lying under the tree sniffing the pine needles on several occasions. Don't pretend you don't want a real tree too.”

He laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “All right, H. We'll buy a tree tomorrow.”

Louis maybe thinks he'd buy thirty tree if Harry hugs him this hard.

 

\--

 

December 3rd. 

“Tommo!”

Louis turns at the loud yell, and grins when he sees Niall approaching, tugging Barbara behind him, who is bundled up in so many layers he can barely tell her apart from an Eskimo.

“Yo,” Louis says in lieu of greeting. “I see you made it for the almighty Christmas tree shopping experience. Hello, Barbie.”

“Hi,” Barbara replies, a thick woollen scarf muffling her voice.

“We're just waiting on H,” Louis says, tucking himself into the corner of the porch of their building to shield himself from the wind. “We both just got back from work, but he is exceptionally slow today.”

They chat about nothing as they wait, the freezing wind nipping at their ankles. Teeth chattering, Louis presses the buzzer for their flat and yells into it, “Hurry the fuck up, Harry! Freezing our bollocks off!”

Harry emerges with a disgruntled expression about two minutes later. “That wasn't very nice.”

“Neither is leaving a lady to catch hypothermia,” Niall points out, slinging an arm around his girlfriend. “C'mon, we getting trees or what?”

They take Harry's car to this yard that sells fir trees, and Niall and Barbara take off immediately, pointing at a 7 footer in the far left.

“We going big or small?” Louis asks, eyeing the rows of trees that surrounded them.

“Small, it'll be cuter.” Of course.

“But it'll die faster.”

“There's probably a deep and resounding metaphor somewhere in that.”

“Yeah? Go work it out then, Eleanor Roosevelt.” Louis pulls him into a headlock, ruffling his hair. “C'mon, babe. Let's go pick our tree.”

They settle on the cutest tree, only five foot and Louis is rambling about the corner that they could put it in and how the star that goes at the top needs dusting. At some point, Niall and Barbara rejoin them, staying silent and watching Louis babble excitedly and Harry indulge him, occasionally popping in a few ideas of his own.

“You know,” Barbara pipes up suddenly. “You're kind of like a newly married couple, you two.”

“It's terribly cute and a lot nauseating,” Niall adds.

Louis' heart jumps in his chest. He retreats into himself after that, going a bit quiet and trying not to ache at the fact that Niall and Barbara think they'd be a cute couple, and how much it hurts that that won't ever happen.

It's just. Painful.

Three fucking years is a long time to pine for someone, is all. Louis' fine. He is.

“Hey,” Harry says gently, as they hang out of the ceiling straps on the Underground on their way home. Niall and Barbara took the car to Louis’ place, with their giant tree strapped the roof and Harry and Louis’ tree in the back seat. There wasn't any space for two more bodies and Niall had an aptitude for winning Rock Paper Scissors. “What's the matter with you? You're all thinky.”

“First time for everything,” Louis jokes and steps away a little, unable to bear the way Harry's breath fans across his neck.

“Shut up. Are you okay?” Harry sounds genuinely concerned and _God,_ it's too fucking much and he's just so in love with Harry and why does Harry care so much?

“I'm fine, babes,” Louis assures him. “I'm fine.”

“21 days til your birthday,” Harry reminds him brightly.

“22 days to Christmas,” Louis shoot back and he swears he hears a fellow passenger let out a quiet cheer.

“Your birthday's more important,” Harry says adamantly.

Louis' heart squeezes past his rib cage, jumps out of his chest and throws itself off the train and into the ominous gap between the platform and the train.

 

\--

December 7th. 

Louis hates his job.

He's worked at Burger King. He's been a shop assistant at Toys R Us. He even went through a brief period of working in a pet shop and he's not even sure how that happened.

But being a barista. It just takes the cake.

Going back and forth between coffee machine and counter is dizzying, plastering on a stupid fake smile for every grumpy customer, remembering how to brew 16 different types of coffee and having to deal with a pissed off client if he forgets the sugar, or God forbid adds too much because the woman is watching her weight.

It just. It's not Louis’ thing.

“You know,” Eleanor says, not-so-subtly stealing a muffin from the display. “Mornings when the shop is empty. I live for them.”

“Tell me about it,” Louis mutters. There's only two people in the shop and it's such a relief. They're usually chock-a-block with customers at this hour. He leans against the counter and plays with a wooden stirrer, “You're my favourite colleague, you know?” he tells her absent mindedly. “Josh always yells at me to smile. It's distracting.”

“You should smile, you look pretty.”  
Eleanor pauses for a moment. Then, “how's your boy?”

“Fine,” Louis replies, before catching himself. “Not my boy.”

Eleanor smirks. “Oh yeah? I--”

The bell above the front door jangles and they both curse and smooth down their aprons. Louis fetches a cup, but then Eleanor is exclaiming, “speak of the devil and he shall appear!”

And Harry is here, curls all tucked into a beanie, bashful smile on his face. Louis really just wants to kiss him.

“You were talking about me?” Harry grins, approaching the counter.

“Only about how gross you are,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose. “Shower, why don't you?”

“You always complain I run up the water bill.” His sigh is self suffering. Louis rolls his eyes. “Anyway, can I get a cappuccino?”

“I'll get it,” Eleanor says, and sets to work brewing the drink.

“What brings you in here, then, H?” Louis asks. “Miss me?”

“Lots,” Harry grins. “Also, the bakery let me off early, it wasn't busy. Thought I'd pop in and ask if you wanted takeaway tonight.”

“Do you even know me,” Louis scoffs. “Yes please.”

“Chinese?”

“I'm craving Indian, actually.”

“Whatever you like babe,” Harry shrugs and Louis fails at trying not smile stupidly. Eleanor comes over, slaps down a lidded cup of coffee.  
Harry pays, then leaves with a wave, sliding a napkin over the counter.

Louis only noticed there's writing on the napkin after he's left. He hadn't even seen Harry take out a pen.

 _17 days til your birthday!_ it says.

Stupid idiot, Louis thinks, and sniffs.

 

\--

December 8th. 

“What do you want for your birthday?” Harry asks, one evening when they're cuddled up on the sofa, beside the lovely decorated tree and under a blanket wielding Rudolph's head.

“Smores, sex and a trip to Fiji,” Louis deadpans.

“When do you wanna go?” Harry's already half up off the sofa, and Louis hurries to grab his waist and pull him back down.

“God, H, I was only joking! You don't have to get me anything.”

“Want to,” He mumbles obstinately. “There's gotta be something you want, Lou.”

You.

“Got everything I need,” Louis replies with a shrug. “You know what you can do though, you can help me with my birthday party. Do you think people will come if it's on Christmas Eve?”

“I would,” Harry says and _God, you're killing me._

“You know what I didn't do today?” Louis gets off the sofa and tries to put as much space as possible between himself and Harry, lest he try to jump him. “Open my advent calendar.”

He gets his out of the cupboard and searches for the little window numbered 8. Harry follows him, hooks his chin over Louis' shoulder. “Aw, you got a chocolate candle.” He pouts. “I already opened mine today.”

“Half?” Louis offers, biting his chocolate in half.

Harry looks at him like he's beauty personified.

Louis doesn't mind at all.

 

\--

 

December 10th. 

 

“Can't fucking do this,” He tells Zayn as they browse the ground floor of the shopping centre. They're for the most part window browsing, the prices are ridiculous. “It hurts so much, man.”

Zayn slings an arm around Louis' shoulder, cuddling into him affectionately. “But like. Are you sure he doesn't like you back?”

“Yes, Zayn.” Louis swerves into Primark, maybe he can find a cheap Christmas present for his sisters in there. “I'm sure.”

Louis has a tradition of going Christmas shopping with Zayn every year, and Zayn is the only person apart from his mum that knows that Louis is stupidstupidstupidly gone  
for his best mate. So this shopping trip couldn't have come at a better time, really, what with Louis being so helplessly in love and all.

“But like. The looks he gives you. Even Perrie thinks so.”

“Don't, Zayn,” Louis says wearily. The last thing he wants is to be instilled with false hope. He knows Harry loves him, is the thing. Just not in the way Louis wants him to.

“Lou--”

“Can we go to the cosmetics range? I can get something for Lottie over there.”

Zayn looks at him somewhat sadly. Louis feels pitied and he hates it. “I just want you to be happy, mate. Everyone else is.”

Louis tackles him into a clothes stand, ignoring the look of disapproval a pregnant woman shoots him. “You're such a sap.”

Zayn buys a scarf for Perrie. Louis buys a crimson lipstick for Lottie. Zayn buys a new leather handbag for his mum. Louis buys a frilly pink bra and thongs for Niall, just for laughs. They split the money for a two jackets for both Barbara and Sophia. Louis tries in vain to find a Christmas present for Harry, but nothing seems adequate. He pulls Zayn around the music shop, TK Maxx and several other hipster shops that would appeal to Harry's quirkiness and all he comes out with is a mug that has the Instagram logo on it. It's pathetic. Eventually Zayn demands to go home and Louis agrees, defeated.

On the bus ride home, Louis' phone buzzes with a text from Harry. _14 days til your birthday!_

“You've got a stupid Harry smile on your face,” Zayn feels the need to point out.

“I don't.”

“It's totally cute, mate.”

Louis glowers at him. He decidedly hates Zayn. He hopes Santa brings him nothing.

 

\--

Louis gets back home to find Harry at the cooker, swaying his bum to ridiculously jovial Christmas tunes. ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’ by Michael Bublé is currently blasting and Harry is humming along and--oh. He's got a reindeer antlers thing on his head and God, it's so fucking cute and nothing is fair.

“Ho ho ho,” Louis says, causing Harry to jump and turn around.

“Hiii!” Harry sounds far too excited to see him. “Haven't seen you all day. 14 days til your birthday, Lou.”

Louis draws him into a loose hug because why the fuck not. “And thanks. As you keep reminding me, I'll be an old man in 14 days.”

“Got a countdown on my phone,” Harry tells him casually and God, Louis' heart hurts. “Also, I asked the bakery and they said they'd make you a two tiered cake for your birthday, free. Red velvet.”

“Get in,” Louis grins. “My fave. Thanks, mate.”

“They actually said, ‘anything for Harry's boyfriend.’” Louis chokes on air.

“What?”

“Barbara at the bakery thinks we're dating. It's kind of cute. I mean we are pretty tactile around each other.”

“Hmm,” Louis responds, not trusting himself with actual words at the moment. “Did you open your advent calendar?”

“Waited for you.”

The universe hates Louis.

They open window number 13 together and eat the chocolate with half hearted complaints that it's not as good as Cadbury's chocolate but it will suffice.

Then the track changes, and All I Want For Christmas is blasting through the house, the powerhouse that is Mariah Carey.

“I don't want a lot for Christmas!” Harry sings, swinging out of Louis' shoulders. “There is just one thing I need!”

“I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree,” Louis joins in, laughing.

“I just want you for my own!”

“More than you could ever know,” and, wow, this is hitting too close to home now.

“Make my wish come truuuuuueeeeee, all I want for Christmas is youuuu!” They sing together, laughing at the epic fail of their attempt at ad-libs and high notes. Jolly Christmas bells sound in the background of the track as Louis and Harry grab each other and dance around the flat.

“Oh baby, all I want for Christmas is you!”

“Youuuuu, baby!”

When the music is brought to a finish, they collapse on the floor, panting and giggling.

“Wanna go watch a shitty Christmas movie?”

Louis smiles. “I think Elf is on.”

“I'll get the popcorn?”

“Butter it!” Louis calls after his retreating figure.

Louis’ never been a Christmassy person, but Christmases with Harry--they're just. Just _nice,_ is all.

 

\--

December 13th. 

“Louis, wake up! It's snowing!”

“Shut the fuck up, it is not,” Louis grumbles, not even opening his eyes. “You just want me to get up and play fucking Battleship with you.”

“Yeah?”

Then a hand is being shoved down his shirt and FUCKING HELL MOTHERFUCKING SHIT-A-BRICK THAT'S COLD.

“Did you put snow down my shirt?!” Louis shoots up and shrieks at a giggling Harry. “I'm gonna fucking get you, H!”

He pulls on trackies and chases Harry outside, tackling him into the snow and it really is snowing, and it's sticking. There's a three inch deep layer of snow and oh my god, it's _Christmas time._

Louis grabs a handful of the pretty white blanket, wishing he'd thought to bring gloves. He shoves the snowball down Harry's top and revels at the way he squeals and wriggles around.

They roll around, fighting to throw snow at each other and they're in fits of laughter by the time they cease.

“Do you wanna build a snowman?” Harry asks, very seriously.

Louis keeps a straight face as he replies. “Go away, Anna.”

Harry laughs and crawls off of Louis, making a tiny ball of snow and proceeding to roll it around, gathering more snow.

“Let's make a snowman! Let's call him Albert!” Harry is saying, as the snowball enlarges. “Come on, Louis! Help me.”

“All fucking right, Anna,” Louis says, but he's smiling. “I'll go in and get a carrot.”

\--

 

December 14th. 

 

It all goes a bit downhill then onwards. In Louis' opinion, it goes a lot downhill.

Louis' lying on the sofa under a  
fluffy blanket watching shitty TV when Harry comes home. He's radiant, practically glowing. Louis sits up expectantly.

“Sells lots of Danish pastries today?” He asks with a grin.

“No, um,” Harry blushes and shuffles his feet, a little smile tugging his dimples. “I, um. There's this girl, right.”

Louis' heart plummets right through his stomach.

“Go on,” He says, even though he feels like he's seconds away from being sick.

“So, her name is Katie. She's a new employee at the bakery and she's uh, very pretty.” Harry pauses and smiles. Louis can't bring himself to smile back. “So, like. Barbara--my boss, that is, not Niall's bird--was at me all day to ask her out? Apparently she was flirting with me, and like, I didn't even notice? So yeah, asked her out. What do you think?”

Jesus, like Louis' verdict actually _matters,_ so why is Harry giving him those stupid fucking doe eyes? Louis' chest is constricting and fuck, Louis doesn't cry, _ever,_ but he feels close to it now.

“Happy for you, H,” He manages, with a weak smile.

“You don't seem it,” Harry says, looking a bit like a kicked puppy and Louis can't have that. He'd rather have this ache fester in his chest than see Harry hurt.

“I am, Haz. Promise.” He's proud of the fact his voice doesn't break.

“Are you gonna sit down and watch MasterChef with me?” Harry asks, patting the sofa and pulling a corner of the blanket onto his lap. Louis lets him have it.

Louis shakes his head. “I'm a bit tired, love. Might just go to bed, if that's okay.”

“Oh. All right.”

Louis' about to close his bedroom door when Harry calls him back. “Hey Lou? 10 days til your birthday.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

 

\--

December 18th. 

 

“Thanks for coming ice skating with us,” Harry says, as he ties up his ice skates.

Louis' not sure how he got roped into it, but he's ended up on this happy little outing with Harry and his girlfriend, and he feels nauseated.

Katie is _nice,_ is the thing, so it's hard to dislike her. She's witty and sarcastic and quirky, and in any other circumstances Louis would befriend her. Quite pretty, as well, though nothing on Barbara, Sophia or Perrie. Maybe that's got something to do with the fact she's girlfriend of the boy Louis' in love with.

Louis doesn't have to dislike her to resent her.

“Bear in mind, I'm clumsy as fuck,” He hears Harry tell Katie. “So you might have to hold my hand a bit.”

Louis stands up abruptly and wobbles onto the ice, gripping the side of the rink for balance until he gets his feet under him. Once he does, he's off, gliding laps around the rink and actually enjoying himself. He's always loved ice skating, loved how it feels like he's flying. He's always been graceful and ice skating is something he's apt at. He catches glimpse of Harry flailing on the ice, hanging onto the ledge and Katie's hand for dear life. Louis does a sharp 360° and blends in with a large group of girls so Harry doesn't feel the need to call him over.

“Hey,” somebody says and Louis digs his heel into the ice to slow down. “What's your name?”

He turns to see an attractive guy, taller than Louis with fluffy brown hair and a killer jawline. He's got his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

“Louis,” He says, slipping into seduction mode. He catches his tongue between his teeth, grinning up at the guy. “Yourself?”

“I'm Carl,” the guy replies, scooting a little closer to Louis. “You here with anyone?”

Louis is steady on the ice, legs spread for leverage as he trails his fingers up the guy--Carl's--arm. “I could be,” He says softly, licking his lips.

“Fuck,” Carl breathes. “Fuck, you're a looker.”

Louis bites his lip, proud. “Not so bad, yourself, love.”

Carl's about to reply when Harry stumbles over, panting. He's not skating, he's literally stomping on the ice. He invades Louis' personal space, slinging an arm around his waist, eyes narrow. “C'mon, Lou, let's go.”

And no _fuck_ this. Harry does not get to lug him out with his girlfriend and then cockblock Louis to all hell, that isn't happening.

“Thought you said you weren't with anyone,” Carl asks, obviously confused and eyes narrowing.

“I'm not,” Louis says firmly and he swears something flashes in Harry's eyes. “What the fuck, H?”

“We have to go,” Harry insists, tugging his arm and literally pulling Louis along the ice. “Sorry, dude!” He calls back to a dumbfounded Carl.

As soon as Louis' off the rink, he turns to Harry with furious eyes. Katie's sitting quietly on a bench, and Louis knows he's making a show of them but he doesn't care.  
“You're such a fucking twat!” he hisses. “The fuck was that for, Harry?”

“I'm sorry, Lou, but he wasn't good enough for you!” Harry crosses his arms. “You're way too good for him.”

“Who the fuck are you to say what's good for me or not?” Louis' never been so angry. “You're here with your girlfriend and you still feel the need to stop me enjoying myself? That's fucked up, Harry! You dragged me, I didn't _want_ to go, you made me!”

“Louis,” Harry says, taking a step back. “I didn't make you go anywhere.”

“You think I wanted to be here, with you and your girlfriend? It makes me feel sick, looking at you two together. It makes my chest ache. I hate it!” The words are pistoning out of Louis' mouth and he's so far gone he doesn't care what he says.

“Why?” Harry's voice is quiet, weak. Louis doesn't fucking care.

“Because I'm fucking in love with you!”

Louis slaps a hand over his mouth, shocked. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. There's a brief moment when nothing happens, when everyone is in shock; Louis, Harry, Katie, even the security guy in the corner, because _what did he just do?_

Then Louis' tugging off his skates and grabbing his shoes, unable to move fast enough. His fumbles with the laces and gets his converse half on before he's sprinting out of the place, with Harry calling his name behind him.

\---

Louis can remember where he was standing when 9/11 happened.

It doesn't even compare to the shock and horror he feels right now. Granted he was only ten years old and 9/11 is most definitely a more catastrophic tragedy than Louis' broken heart, but the latter definitely hurts more.

He could go to Zayn's, tell him what happened. Maybe he could stay there for a bit, because there's no way he can face Harry now. He'll be so embarrassed, having to look at the pity and/or disgust in Harry's eyes.

Louis plays idly with the tinsel on the tree. He's just about to decide what to do when he hears a key in the lock, and he nearly falls over his own feet trying to get away.

Harry bursts in, panting, eyes wide. He catches sight of Louis and stumbles over. Then, he brings his hands to Louis' neck and kisses him, hard and all of Louis' internal organs freeze.

“C'mon, kiss me back,” Harry whines and something just clicks. Louis wraps his arms around Harry's waist and kisses him back, tongues sliding together, breathy moans between them. They fall into bed together, and Louis straddles Harry. They make out just like that and Harry can't seem to stop moaning.

“Wanted this forever,” He murmurs and Louis nearly _cries,_ because this is all he's ever wanted too and god, it feels so good. He grinds down on Harry, rubbing their semi-hard cocks together.

“Jesus, can I like,” Louis mumbles into his mouth, “Can I suck you off?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Harry groans, unbuttoning his trousers and shoving them down his legs. “Do it, Lou, fuck.”

Louis tugs down his boxers and strokes Harry's cock, bringing it to full hardness. Harry is making granny hands at Louis' shirt, pulling it over his head and sighing happily once it's off. Louis leans down and takes the tip of Harry's cock into his mouth, kitten licking at the head. Harry lets out a low moan and squirms.

“C'mon, Lou, don't tease,” He mumbles. Louis obliges, sliding his lips down Harry's cock and bobbing back up, hand taking card of what his mouth can't reach.

Louis' oral skills are excellent, even if he does say so himself, so that combined with his humming sending vibrations through Harry's cock, brings him close to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

“Lou, God, close,” He gets out, bucking his hips up. Louis doesn't pull off, only sucks harder, pulling a trick with his tongue that has Harry whining and panting and begging to come. It only takes one last swirl of the tongue on the head to have Harry coming down his throat, whining Louis' name.

Louis waits patiently for Harry to recover, getting out his cock and stroking it to relieve himself. When Harry's shook off the post-orgasm haze, he bats away Louis' hand and wraps his own one around his cock.

Louis' been hard a while, so it doesn't take long before he's coming into Harry's hand, eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm racks his body.

He flops back onto the bed beside Harry, sweaty and exhausted. Louis has to keep from pinching himself because _did that really just happen?_ He's just so fucking happy.

“Shower?” Harry proposes.

“Later,” Louis mumbles, using his remaining energy to drag the duvet over their spent bodies. He cuddles closer to Harry, buries his face in the crook of his neck and sighs contentedly. “Love you, H.”

Harry brings up a hand to run through Louis' hair. “Yeah, babe. You too.”

\--

December 19th. 

Louis wakes up alone.

Which he thinks nothing of for a moment before the events of yesterday evening unravel and oh god, he slept with Harry.

And he's waking up _alone._

A stab of panic spikes him, before he throws himself out of bed and tries to clear his mind. It's fine, he tells himself, Harry's in the bathroom or he's making tea in the kitchen. No need to freak out, Jesus.

But as he pads around the flat softly calling Harry's name, he realises with a sinking feeling that the curly haired boy is most definitely not home. There's no note, no text, no nothing.

Harry fucked and ditched him.

Louis collapses back into bed and curls into the comfort of the duvet, trying to ignore the stinging feeling.

He hurts everywhere.

 

\--

 

Harry doesn't get back to the flat for hours and Louis only gets out of bed to piss and swallow a few cashew nuts. He hasn't touched his phone all day, so if Harry called him he wouldn't know. He really doesn't want to face Harry, knows he'll probably just cry anyway, so he shuts his eyes and pretends to be asleep.

“Lou?” Harry whispers, the bedroom door creaking open. A sliver of light falls onto Louis' face. He tries to even out his breaths so he can pass for unconscious. It must work because Harry sighs loudly. “You awake, Lou?”

He feels heavy weight sit down on the bed beside him and Louis feels long cold fingers running through his hair. He tries not to tense up.

“Sorry, Louis,” He hears Harry say, voice hitching. “I'm so sorry.”

What's he apologising for? The imminent rejection of Louis' stupid fucking crush on him? The possible idea of Harry deciding to move out because he can't stand to be around Louis? Ruining Louis' Christmas by not returning his feelings?

There's a long pause, and Louis wonders if maybe he's gone to sleep or something before he speaks again, “Five days, babe.”

He sits there on the edge of the bed for a while, stroking Louis' hair. Louis resists the urge to open his eyes because then he'll have to deal with Harry and right now the thought makes him nauseous. Eventually the weight shifts from the bed and he hears the telltale sound of the kettle boiling. Louis lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

 

\--

December 20th. 

So Louis may or may not be avoiding Harry.

He makes an effort to get up early so he doesn't have to face Harry at breakfast and grabs food in form of a granola bar from the cupboard. He leaves the house long before Harry awakes, and finds there's an hour to go before his shift at Costa starts, so he heads over to Zayn's. Perrie's always been an early riser, so even if Zayn's not awake, she probably will be.

“Oh babe,” Perrie says when she sees him standing in the porch, “what happened?”

“How do you know something happened?” Louis mutters, but he sinks into her perfumey hug anyway.

“It's seven am, babes, and you're here. Plus, you look a state. Also, Zayn told me you went out with Katie and Harry yesterday. So what gives?”

“Maybe we should wait for Zayn,” He mumbles into her shoulder as she bundles them both into the flat, where she's already got the artificial fireplace plugged in.

“Wait for Zayn my foot,” She snorts. “Tell me.”

So Louis tells her. He starts from the ice skating trip, moves onto Carl and Harry's intervention--“He was _jealous!”_ Perrie gasps--and ends with Louis waking up alone the next day.

“What a fucking dick,” She spits, when Louis stops talking. “I'll send Zayn over to kick him in the balls--no, I'll go over myself, God what does he think he's doing--”

“Pez, Pez--” Louis interrupts, although somewhat touched by her passion on the matter. “He doesn't love me, I knew that already. It's all right, babes, honest.”

“The way he looks at you,” Perrie murmurs, “thought he loved you too, Lou.”

His heart jolts in his chest. “Will you help me plan my birthday party? Harry was going to, but--”

“Sure, love. I throw sick parties, Jade will tell you that.”

“Do you wanna sit down and watch This Morning?” He implores, “I think James McAvoy is on it. Always thought he was fit.”

“Do I ever,” She agrees heartily and they curl up under the electric blanket watching Phillip Schofield until it's inevitably time for Louis to go to work.

“Zayn's still not surfaced,” Perrie says as she gets up to see Louis out, “Sorry 'bout that.”

“Your company's more than enough,” Louis assures her. “I gotta go. Thanks, Perrie.”

 

\--

 

It's just him and Eleanor on shift today, and he likes it that way. It's more tranquil, less frantic and the customers are usually sparse in the morning anyway, favouring the mainstream Starbucks down the street.

“Let's play a game,” Eleanor suggests, as Louis pulls his apron over his head. “You close your eyes, right, and I describe a customer to you, and you try to guess their order.”

So they play, Eleanor giving her best description of customers that walk in  
and Louis trying to guess what they'll order.

“Okay, so!” Eleanor exclaims as the bell chimes over the door. Louis quickly turns away. “This is a young woman, got corkscrew curls--a bad bleachjob blonde, worse than your mate Niall's--”

“ _Hey,_ ” Louis complains, in defence of his friend.

“Fairly tall, wearing a Parka and Uggs and jeans--”

“I guess Danish pastry and a babycino,” Louis guesses and turns around just as the woman approaches the counter.

He gets it wrong of course, she orders a chai latte and an orange spice muffin but he eventually does guess one order right, and he and Eleanor fist bump under the counter.

“Okay, Louis, turn around!” Eleanor says excitedly as the overhead bells chime again. “It's a guy, got his good up, though, curly hair and the legs for miles--is that a headscarf? Oh, is that your friend--”

Louis knows who it is just by Eleanor's description and his stomach nearly leaps out of his mouth in panic. Instinctually, he ducks down behind the counter and grips Eleanor's jean-clad leg, hard. She glances down at him, confused.

“Um, good morning, Harry,” He hears her say. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, Eleanor,” Harry says politely and God, his voice is so lovely it makes Louis want to _cry._ “Um, I was just wondering if Louis was working today?”

Louis' breath hitches. He grips Eleanor's leg harder, digs his nails into her skin. She shakes her leg, trying to shoo him off.

“Um, no, sorry,” Eleanor tells him and Louis should buy her flowers, he should. “He called in sick, I'm covering for him.”

“He's not home,” Harry says quietly, subdued. “Do you know where he is?”

_Yeah, under the fucking counter._

“No, sorry,” Eleanor says sweetly. “Maybe you should call him?”

“Thanks, Eleanor. I'll take a cappuccino.”

Eleanor wriggles free of Louis to go prepare the coffee. She slaps a lid on the steaming drink, and hands him his order, slipping a cardboard collar around the cup. Harry pays and she returns his change, to which he shakes his head and tells her to put it in the tip jar. Louis waits until he hears the overhead bell jangle before standing up again, so relieved he could cry.

“I love you,” Louis tells Eleanor honestly, “Anytime you want me to cover your shift, I will.”

“What was that about?” She queries, looking at Louis with eyes too concerned for their own good.

“I'd rather not talk about it,” He mutters and goes to greet the next customer. While he makes the coffee, his phone buzzes against his thigh. He doesn't get to check it until fifteen minutes later, and when he does he feels the urge to smash it against a wall.

Harry: _called into costa, u weren't there. where r u? need to talk to u :(_

Ha, thanks, bro, but Louis' not willingly walking into a conversation of rejection. And then there's another message from Harry waiting in his inbox,

_4 days til your birthday xx._

\--

23rd December. 

It's two days to Christmas, one day to his birthday and he can't even join in the Christmas spirit that's so carelessly hanging in the atmosphere because he knows he's a breath away from losing his best friend.

He's over at Zayn's place with Niall and Barbara, and Liam and Sophia and they're all laughing and drinking and singing loud Christmas songs at the top of their lungs, and Louis would usually join in, but.

This time last year he was watching Christmas movies with Harry, their scented candles lit and the light of the flames reflecting off the shiny red baubles on the tree and--God. He wishes he hadn't fucked up, wished he hadn't told Harry he loved him so they could be with each other now.

 

His sisters are texting him non-stop, all excited for him coming home in two days. It's easy to appear jovial over text, but it's harder to keep up appearances here, with his closest friends.

Zayn and Perrie are as lovey as usual, nuzzling each other's noses and spouting stupid quotes. Niall and Barbara are more casual, laughing loudly and bantering like old mates, apart from the fact their legs were tangled together. Liam and Soph's entwined hands never break, and they talk together in hushed voices.

It's just. Everyone's got a lover but Louis. He feels a bit like a third wheel--seventh wheel??--and he wishes more than anything that he was with Harry, being cutesy and nauseating everyone with their heart eyes.

“You scumbag, you maggot!”  
Niall roars, to the cheery music of Fairytale of New York.

“You cheap lousy faggot!” Zayn chimes in.

The music drones on, and Louis doesn't notice everybody has turned to look at him until he does.

“What?”

“S'your line, Lou,” Niall reminds him, nudging his side.

“Happy Christmas, your arse,” Louis says his line of the song automatically, but he winces as it comes out. He sounds dead, with no inflection of happiness or tune whatsoever and really, he could keep up a better pretence. He's pathetic.

“Louis,” Barbara says, her voice positively dripping with pity and he hates it so much. “Maybe you should talk to Harry?”

“He's not talking to that jerk,” Zayn snaps, “God, Barbara, Louis told him he loved him and Harry still ditched him the morning after! It's such a dick move.”

“I know, Zayn,” Barbara retorts, “I just think Louis would be a lot happier if he made up with Harry before Christmas.”

“Is he coming to your party tomorrow?”

“S'in his flat,” Louis shrugs, “I suppose he'll make an appearance at some point.”

“Did you get him a present?” Perrie wants to know, turning the music down to a low hum. Louis wishes she wouldn't. It turns all attention on him--which normally he would love, but the subject at matter is a sensitive topic.

Louis nods. “S'in me wardrobe. Hidden under my jumpers.”

“What time do you want us to come over and help set up the party?” It's like Zayn senses his discomfort and quickly diverts the conversation.

His heart swells, he fucking loves his friends. “Thanks, guys. Thanks for this, I know it's not convenient and it's Christmas Eve and all and you'd rather be with your families.”

“Who needs family when you got Tommo's birthday bash and booze?” Niall grins. “There will be booze, right?”

“Of every sort,” Louis promises. “You can have Jäger Bombs to your heart's content.”

They all let out a collective whoop and Louis really, really loves his friends.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Louis asks in Zayn's ear.

“Course,” Zayn says, and then Louis' phone is vibrating in his pocket. He digs it out, expecting it to be Lottie linking him to some gay porn site for laughs, but it's not.

Harry: _76 minutes til your birthday. I miss you. Come home?_

Louis bites his lip and doesn't reply.

 

\--

They all stay awake until midnight, blinking stubbornly past the sleepiness and as soon as the clock strikes they yell out an impressively loud ‘Happy birthday Louis!’ and throw him under a massive dogpile. They sing Happy Birthday and give him a shot to down before bed, and then Liam and Sophia as well as Niall and Barbara are off home, waving goodbyes and shouting last birthday wishes as they're bundled out the door.

He sleeps on Zayn's sofa under a pile of blankets and pillows. While he's tossing and turning his way to sleep, he has an irrational thought that he could be having birthday sex right now if only Harry loved him back.

Bored, he scrolls through countless birthday texts from his sisters, his mum, extended family, Stan, Liam and Sophia, Eleanor and even a few from old university friends but there's none from the person he's looking for.

Maybe Harry's forgotten. Maybe that stupid countdown was--

_Ping._

Louis takes a deep breath before opening the message and it is from Harry. Fuck, God, fuck.

_Happy birthday Louis, my favourite person in the whole wide world. Got your present for you if only you'd ever come home! Miss you loads, please talk to me? Happy birthday._

Attached, is a photo of Harry kissing Louis' cheek and he's smiling, eyes crinkled. Louis doesn't realise he's crying until a fat salty tear splashes onto his phone screen. He wipes it away hurriedly, feeling all kinds of pathetic.

“God, I fucking love you, Harry,” He sniffs and tucks his phone under his pillow as he drifts off into a restless sleep.

\--

December 24th. 

“Happy birthday, baby!”

“Thanks, Mum,” He says groggily into the phone, tired from just having awoke, thanks to Perrie blasting Christmas music from the kitchen.

“I have your present waiting for you when you come home. I can't wait to see you. The girls have been missing you like crazy.”

“Miss them too,” He tells her. “Listen, Mum, I gotta--”

“I can't believe my sweetheart is 23!” Her voice sounds alarmingly unstable and Louis hurries to assure her, even though there's a panic in his stomach at aging too. He'll have grey hair and wrinkles before he knows it, and God knows he's already got knee issues. “Mum, Mum, Jesus, I'm still relatively young, okay? Just because _Harry's_ in his prosperous youth--”

He cuts himself off at the mention of Harry, biting his tongue. Thankfully his mum doesn't seem to notice, and laughs. “Oh, darling, I'm so proud of you.”

“I gotta go get my party set up, Mum.”

“Of course. See you tomorrow, sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Louis hangs up and heaves himself out of sofa. After brushing the smell of morning off his teeth, he joins Perrie in the kitchen, baking for the party, bless her.

“Okay, so I've made rocky road, rice crispie cupcakes and Mars Bar squares. Barbara's doing all the savoury stuff--what else do you want? A chocolate log?”

“Babe, don't worry, Harry's getting the bakery to make a red velv--” He bites his tongue, effectively stopping the word flow. “I don't know if that offer still stands. Probably not. I'll help you make the log.”

\--

By the time Louis' party rolls around, he's feeling the best he's felt in days.

Harry's not in the flat when himself, Perrie, Barbara and Liam go round to set up the place, so he avoids that spot of awkwardness. Everyone's outdone themselves (maybe out of pity for Louis' bleeding heart). Barbara's made a plethora of sandwiches and bought breadsticks and hummus and a fruit salad and Perrie's sweet treats are on another table, sure to go down well. Liam has agreed to DJ, and he's made a playlist consisting of an impressive 154 Christmas songs. Louis' wearing a woollen Christmas jumper and a Santa hat, and guests start piling in the door at 10.

They all wear festive accessories and wish Louis happy birthday and then disperse to the bar. (aka the kitchen island)

Louis has fun, he does. He spends the majority of the night chatting to whoever happens to be with him on the sofa. He gets up every third song or so to mingle and dance and he has a glass of beer in his hand at all times, making sure to drink gallons of water in between as he doesn't really require a massive hangover for the drive back to Donny.

The night gets interesting when Stan leaves the sofa and is replaced by Katie.

Katie, Harry's ex-girlfriend. Or maybe still girlfriend. He wouldn't know. He spares a moment for his aching heart.

“Louis,” Katie says, all smiles. She's wearing a respectable red dress and a reindeer antler hairband. “Hi. Harry said I could come. I hope you don't mind?”

“Of course not,” Louis says stiffly and how dare Harry invite people to his party? “You're welcome here.”

“No, I'm not,” She shoots back, and to her credit, she doesn't look too bothered by this. “You don't like me one bit. But you don't have to worry. Harry and I aren't together.”

“You're not?” His eyebrows furrow.

“Why would he be with me?” Katie shrugs, crossing her legs and sipping her glass of champagne. “He's crazy about you.”

Louis' pulse speeds up. He wonders if it's noticeable. “He said that to you?”

“Not directly. But I can tell.”

Katie gets up, adjusting her antlers and nodding down at Louis. “Thanks for the party. Happy birthday, Louis. And don't be too harsh on Harry. He loves you a lot.”

Then she's gone, disappeared into the crowd. Louis sits there, blinking. He's sure it's just Katie overestimating her intuitive skills. Harry's generally quite open, so if he didn't say anything outright, it's probably not true.

_He's crazy about you._

Louis chugs his beer.

\--

Harry arrives at the scene an hour later.

He looks dishevelled, his curls an unruly mess, his clothes not quite hanging on him right. He's got darn circles under his eyes and is wearing a jumper that lights up. He looks ridiculous, but also very lovely.

Louis makes to retreat to a corner, but Harry's already spotted him and is making a beeline in his direction.

“Louis!” He says, once he's in Louis' general vicinity. “Happy birthday.”

“Hello, H,” Louis replies, looking down at his feet.

“I was wondering...can we talk?” He sounds sad, and his usual smile wasn't on his face and god, _I just want to see you smile again._

Louis thinks about refusing, because if he's being rejected then he'd rather not, but the way Harry's facial expression shifts uncertainly has him agreeing. “My bedroom?”

Harry follows him into the bedroom. Louis takes a seat on the unmade bed but the other boy just stands, shuffling his feet as he leans against the closed door.

“What is it, H?” Louis asks quietly.

“I'm _sorry,”_ He bursts out suddenly, striding towards Louis, his eyes pleading. “I'm so sorry I left you, Louis. God, I am such a dick and I can't tell you how sorry I am.”

“Okay,” He mumbles back.

“I don't know what I can say to get to forgive me,” He implores, voice breaking somewhere through the statement. “God. I just want you to forgive me. I miss you so much.”

“You left me,” Louis is saying and oh god, that better not be his voice cracking. “I told you I loved me and you just left me. We did stuff, and you left. You used me.”

“God, Lou, no,” Harry sniffs, miserably and he falls to his knees beside the bed, his hands placed on Louis' lap. “I didn't use you. I love you.”

Louis' breath hitches and he turns away, trying to hide the fact he's fucking crying. “Stop it, Harry.”

“It's true,” Harry begs, “I promise it's true. I'm sorry I left, I just panicked. Remember when I saw you with that guy at the ice rink? I hated that, wanted you all to myself. Love you so much, Lou, just please don't stop talking to me. I'll do anything, please don't ignore me.”

They're both crying now, and it's pathetic. It's also Louis' birthday and he doesn't need to deal with this shit. He's just so fucking tired.

“It's my birthday,” Louis half whines, “It's my birthday, H. I don't really--”

He stands up to start heading for the door, but is stopped by a broken, “Lou.”

He turns around at the noises Harry makes as he frantically rummages through the wardrobe. He digs around until he finds a transparent plastic bag and shoves it into Louis' hands.

“It's your birthday present. Open it.”

Louis doesn't make eye contact as he takes out a red Man U jersey. It's a bit of a let down, to be honest, because he has three of these, but then he turns it around.

“Is that...?”

“Signed by Wayne Rooney. I had to go to Old Trafford when Man U we're playing and literally get down on my knees and beg to be let into the changing rooms after the match. Luckily the security guard was a female and caved when I told her it was to win you back. She was a bit of a romantic.”

_To win you back._

Louis swallows, his throat feeling tight. “You didn't have to do that, H.” He cradles the precious jersey to his chest. He's touched that Harry would go to the trouble of procuring a signed jersey by only Louis' favourite footie player in the whole fucking world, because even if Harry doesn't love him like he wants, he at least loves Louis.

“I wanted to. Because I love you. I love you a lot.” Harry takes a deep breath. “Like, not friend love. I'm in love with you. I want you.”

And that's it, Louis' lunging forward into Harry's arms, wrapping his around Harry's neck and clinging tight. His face is buried in his shoulder, and it takes a second for Harry to respond before he's clutching Louis tight, his arms circling his waist and he can feel Harry's shaky breaths on the side of his face.

“I love you too,” Louis manages and he feels Harry's grip tighten. “Love you so much, H. You don't even know.”

“I fucking do,” Harry says, “Fucking love you more. I'm so sorry I left you, Louis. I'll never do anything like that again, I swear. Love you.”

They're kissing now, and it's a good kiss but Louis can't think because he's _kissing Harry_ and _Harry loves him._

They're both semi-hard in their jeans as they lazily grind their crotches together, so Louis takes it upon himself to drop to his knees and pull down Harry's trousers. Harry groans as Louis starts stroking his cock to hardness, and he groans louder when he envelopes the cock in his hot wet mouth, taking him down as far as he can (which is pretty far).

“Lou,” Harry gasps, as Louis tongues at the head, using his hand to stimulate the base. Harry's hand clutches Louis' hair, hard, and he can tell Harry's refraining from fucking into his mouth but--oh.

“Fuck,” Louis moans, palming his neglected cock, “Fuck my mouth, Harry.”

“Fucking Jesus,” Harry mutters, and Louis crosses his hands behind his back, offering control to Harry, who gladly takes it and fucks Louis' mouth. His throat will be sore come morning, and his mum will be offering him Strepsils.

Did he really just think about his _mum_ while Harry fucks his mouth?

“Don't wanna come,” Harry gasps, pulling away and stumbling back. “God. I wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah,” Louis moans, crawling up onto the bed and flopping down onto his belly. “Yeah, fuck me.”

“Lazyyy,” Harry drawls, sounding amused. He pulls Louis' trousers and boxers over his bum simultaneously. Louis spreads his legs and rips off his shirt.

“Fucking hell, Lou, your arse is something else.”

“I know,” Louis grins. “Now fuck it, please.”

Harry slaps his arse lightly. “Be patient,” He says, but Louis' moaning and pushing back his arse.

“Oh. You _like_ that.” If Harry was in his line of vision, he's sure he'd be grinning wickedly. “You want me to spank you again?”

“Please,” He keens, and receives a smack on his arse in return.

Harry shifts from the bed and comes back with lube and a condom in hand. Louis feels a slick finger press against his hole, and he pushes back until it's fully inside.

“Fuck,” He whines, the drag of Harry's finger inside of him making him keen and rut into the sheets. “More.”

“Greedy,” Harry says, and slaps his arse again. He pulls his finger out and fucks back in with two, scissoring them to stretch Louis out. The tips of his fingers keep jabbing his prostate and making him moan. Louis swears he could come from this, it feels so good.

“Harry, I'm ready,” He informs, soon after he's taken three fingers. “Want you inside me.”

“Want it so much, Lou,” Harry mumbles, as he slides on a condom and slicks his cock up with lube. “You ready?”

“Yeah, God. Fuck me.”

“Spread that arse for me, then.”

Louis pulls his cheeks apart, feeling slightly embarrassed that his hole is on display, but then Harry's pressing inside and Louis has to bury his head in the pillow because he's not a virgin, of course he's not, but it's been a while. When Harry's balls press up against him, he lets out a quiet breath and groans loudly. He's forgotten that there are guests on the other side of the locked door, but he figures the music's loud enough to disguise his noises anyway. He feels so full, and it's so fucking good.

“Okay. You can move.”

Harry fucks in and out carefully, but as Louis gets louder, his thrusts speed up and soon he's really fucking him, pushing against his prostate and Louis can't shut up.

“So good, H,” He whines, pushing his hips back.

“Yeah? You feel so fucking good.” He grabs a handful of Louis' arse as he fucks him. “God, this arse is amazing. You're amazing.”

Louis wails as he comes into the sheets, his orgasm ripping through his body and rendering him useless as he clenches around Harry's cock, bringing him to orgasm as well.

Harry flops down beside Louis and they lie there, panting. They're sweaty and sticky, but Louis' still up for a cuddle.

“Cuddle me?” he asks, rolling into Harry's space.

“I will. But you need to say goodnight to your guests, first. And then we need to clean up a bit. And then we'll cuddle. I'd love to cuddle.” Harry's grin causes dimples in his cheeks. Louis' so fucking gone for this boy.

They make themselves look somewhat presentable before emerging out of the bedroom and relinquish control of the party to Liam. They both just want to sleep.

Louis weaves through the crowd, thanking his guests and hugging them, wishing them goodnight and Merry Christmas.

By the time he's back with Liam, Harry has a radiant glow on his face and Niall, Barbara and Zayn have gathered around the surround system.

“Tired already, Lou? Some host you are,” Zayn teases. Harry wraps an arm around Louis' waist, pulling him close. Louis leans into the embrace.

“Heyyyy. Don't talk to my boyfriend like that.”

Louis hides a wide smile in Harry's shoulder. _Boyfriend._

“Fucking finally!” Niall cheers, successfully breaking the shocked silence that had followed that little statement. The Irishman throws his arms in the air. “Thank God.”

“We were sick of the both of you being miserable,” Zayn adds. “It sucked.”

“I'm sorryyyy, Louis,” Harry murmured in his ear again. “Sorry for leaving you.”

Louis just nuzzled into Harry more.

“God, you're sickening,” Niall says and pretends to retch. Louis doesn't mind. He wants to be a sickeningly cute couple with Harry.

Mariah Carey is blasting over the speakers, the better version without Justin Bieber. “All I want for Christmas is youuuuu,” Harry croons, unbelievably out of tune, but yes, maybe all Louis wanted for Christmas was Harry and he got him, so he's happy now.

He's very happy.

That night, he falls asleep with Harry cuddling him from behind, and kissing his neck gently. “Merry Christmas, H,” He mumbles, and falls asleep.

 

\--

December 25th. 

Louis and Harry wake early, due to the need to get on the road to join their respective families for Christmas Day.

Louis wakes up in Harry's arms, and it's the best feeling in the world.

They have a fry up for breakfast, courtesy of Harry, curled up on the sofa watching Elf. They share kisses more than watch the movie, and both parties are totally okay with this. The Christmas tree is all lit up, and Louis thinks maybe it's the best Christmas ever.

Louis retrieves his present from the wardrobe. It's wrapped in red and white Ho Ho Ho paper and he shyly pushes it into Harry's hand.

“It's a bit stupid,” Louis says, as Harry unwraps it.

It's a framed picture of the two of them, possibly Louis' favourite picture ever. It was at a theme park in Madrid. Louis' on Harry's back and they're both squinting at the camera, smiling widely. On the back of the frame, Louis' written _Merry Christmas, H. Love L xxx_

“You're such a cutie,” Harry smiles at the photo frame, going in for a soft kiss which Louis certainly doesn't reject. “I love it.”

“Wait,” Louis stops him. “Open the back.”

Confused, Harry follows orders and pulls open the slat at the back. Inside sits the two The 1975 tickets that Louis has placed there.

“Oh my God, you did not!” Harry squeals, like a delighted teenager. “Oh my god! The 1975! I'm going to see The 1975!”

“With me, I should hope,” Louis grins, feeling all bubbly and pleased at the reaction.

“Course, babe.” Harry places the photo frame carefully on the mantelpiece, knocking away a few Christmas cards from relatives to make space. He's still beaming as he tucks the tickets safely into his wallet.

“We gotta hit the road now, babes,” Louis says, stretching and getting up off the sofa. “I told Mum I'd be there by noon to open prezzies with the girls.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry agrees, and by half ten, they're dressed for weather, bags packed and standing by their respective cars.

“I'll see you on New Year's Eve?” Harry asks, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist. He nods into Harry's chest and then reaches up to kiss him.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Harry walks Louis to his car, and once the latter is seated, he cranes his neck into the window to kiss him again.

“Merry Christmas, Lou.”

And Louis swears this is the best fucking Christmas he's ever had.


End file.
